The constant struggle in mature life, I think, is to accept the necessity of tragedy and conflict, and not to try to… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
So much working, reading, thinking, living to do. A lifetime is not long enough. Nor youth to old age long enough. Immortality… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Is to throw together events from my own life, fictionalizing to add color—it’s a pot boiler really, but I think it will… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think that personal experience is very important, but certainly it shouldn't be a kind of shut-box and mirror-looking, narcissistic experience. I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I think my poems immediately come out of the sensuous and emotional experiences I have, but I must say I cannot sympathise… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
... you looked around and saw everybody either married or busy and happy and thinking and being creative, and you felt scared,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Frustrated? Yes. Why? Because it is impossible for me to be God — or the universal woman-and-man — or anything much. I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
The moon, too, abases her subjects, but in the daytime she is ridiculous. Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand, arrive through the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I am not a historian, but I find myself being more and more fascinated by history and now I find myself reading… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
But I am I now; and so many other millions are so irretrievably their own special variety of 'I' that I can… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I’d discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Now I know what loneliness is, I think. Momentary loneliness, anyway. It comes from a vague core of the self - -… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I had removed my patent leather shoes after a while, for they foundered badly in the sand. It pleased me to think… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
I want, I think, to be omniscient. I think I would like to call myself "the girl who wanted to be God."… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
“It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York.” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
... These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. ... --Lady Lazarus — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
Sure, I’m dramatic and sloppily semi-cynical and semi-sentimental. But, in leisure years I could grow and choose my way. Now I am living on… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“People were made of nothing so much as dust, and I couldn't see that doctoring all that dust was a bit better than writing… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“I couldn't stand the idea of a woman having to have a single pure life and a man being able to have a double… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
I saw the gooseflesh on my skin. I did not know what made it. I was not cold. Had a ghost passed over? No,… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“The city had faded my tan, though. I looked yellow as a Chinaman. Ordinarily, I would have been nervous about my dress and my… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
A million years of evolution, Eric said bitterly, and what are we? Animals. — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“I have stitched life into me like a rare organ --from "Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices", written 1962” — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“Flute Notes from a Reedy Pond" Now coldness comes sifting down, layer after layer, To our bower at the lily root. Overhead the old… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
“The most saddening thing is to admit that I am not in love. I can only love (if that means self denial - or… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share
